


Forgive My Mouth

by Spikedluv



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-31
Updated: 2011-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam was so much a part of him now that Kris could hardly remember what life before Adam was like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgive My Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> Another Vegas!fic; takes place Saturday night.
> 
> Written: April 15, 2010

_Wr r u_ Kris texted as he stepped into the JET club. His phone vibrated almost immediately with Adam’s reply. Kris slipped his phone into his back pocket and tried not to look as nervous as he felt as he made his way through the club to the level Adam had indicated. He’d been a little bit giddy all day, but he couldn’t help it; knowing that he was finally going to see Adam after weeks apart gave him an adrenaline rush he couldn’t contain.

Kris kept his eyes down, concentrating on pushing his way through crowd without being recognized and stopped. He only looked up when he approached the top of the stairs, and then nearly tripped over his own feet when he saw Adam standing there, leaning against the railing, smiling as he watched Kris make his way to him.

Kris grinned, finally able to give in to his excitement, and skipped up the last three steps. He didn’t pay attention to anyone around them, not caring who saw him throw himself into Adam’s arms. Adam held Kris close, his lips pressed to the side of Kris’ head, but when he made as if to break the hug, Kris gave a sound of protest and tightened his grip around Adam.

Adam rubbed his hands up and down Kris’ back. “Oh, baby, I’m not letting you go, but maybe we should stop blocking the stairs and go sit down.”

Kris didn’t raise his head from Adam’s chest, but Adam apparently understood his muffled agreement anyway. Kris didn’t let go when Adam started them moving away from the stairs, just readjusted his hold and kept his arms around him. Adam led them to a couch that had remained empty during his absence, reserved only by a coat thrown over one arm, and a condensation covered glass holding down a cardboard coaster and containing mostly melted ice sitting on the low table before it.

Adam dropped into the corner of the couch and pulled Kris down beside him. They sat so close Kris was nearly in Adam’s lap, but he didn’t care who saw them together, or what they thought of it. A waitress came by and Adam ordered them both drinks. Kris didn’t pay attention, or even tease Adam about ordering for him, because he didn’t care about that either.

The only thing Kris cared about was that he and Adam were finally in the same room, and that for these few minutes they didn’t have to hide anything. They held hands, fingers entwined, until their drinks came. Adam handed Kris’ to him, then took his own, never removing his other arm from around Kris’ shoulders.

They made small talk, steering their conversation away from the elephant in the room for now. There would be time to discuss what was going to happen next later, right now, Kris just wanted to _be_ with Adam. He rested his head against Adam’s shoulder and told him about the concert that afternoon, the new song he was writing, and attending a red carpet event for a tattoo parlor.

“A _tattoo_ parlor!” Kris said, laughing at himself.

“Maybe you should have gotten one, really screwed with their heads,” Adam suggested, smiling.

“Yeah, right, what, like ‘Property of Adam Lambert’?”

“That sounds awfully long. You could maybe abbreviate it. PoAL.”

Kris’ laugh was cut off when Adam pressed his fingers to Kris’ hip and added, “Right here, maybe, with a little heart.”

Kris swallowed hard and countered. “That stupid Idol microphone.”

“A musical note.”

Kris’ breath caught as he imagined the small note with Adam’s initials inside it. “Adam.”

“Sorry,” Adam said, “that was supposed to wait.”

“Talk about tattoos?” Kris asked, momentarily confused.

“Talk about anything that would make you look at me like that, which would in turn test my resolve to not rip off your clothes until we’re back in my room.”

“Oh,” Kris said, breathless.

Adam chuckled, then leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Kris’ lips. “You’re supposed to _stop_ looking at me like that.”

“I don’t know how,” Kris said, and then he reached up and touched Adam’s face when his expression went a little bit wrecked.

“Kris . . . .”

“Let’s dance,” Kris interrupted.

“What?”

“Dance.”

“Kristopher,” Adam said, his tone a warning that Kris ignored.

Kris just smiled and stood, taking Adam’s hand and pulling him to his feet. “I know,” he whispered. “Come on, let’s go test your resolve some more.”

“Fuck,” Adam hissed as he let Kris drag him over to the dance floor.

A fast song was playing when they stepped onto the small space reserved for dancing, but Kris didn’t let that deter him. He knew he wasn’t a great dancer, not like Adam. He wasn’t as smooth, found it more difficult to let loose, except when he was lost in his music, or in Adam. So Kris kept one hand on Adam’s hip and resisted the urge to close his eyes.

Kris didn’t try to match Adam’s movements, just let them guide his own. He kept his eyes on Adam’s, not caring what anyone else thought. Adam threw his head back and laughed, and Kris grinned as he did a little shimmy with his shoulders and added a wiggle to his hips. Adam’s eyes went dark and he lowered his lashes to hide the heat Kris knew might burn him if Adam looked at him straight on.

They kept their motions light and flirty until the song changed to a slow tune. Kris flexed his fingers on Adam’s hip and took a step that brought him flush against Adam.

Adam sounded breathless from more than exertion when he said, “We should probably . . . .”

Kris set his other hand on Adam’s shoulder and slid it across to curl his fingers around Adam’s neck as his body swayed to the slower beat.

“Kris,” Adam said, even as he let his hands fall to Kris’ hips, dug his fingers into the flesh beneath the denim.

Kris tilted his head back, rubbing against Adam as he went to his toes and brushed his lips across Adam’s. “Dance with me.”

Adam slid one hand to the dip in Kris’ lower back.

“One dance,” Kris said, “and then take me back to your room and fuck me.”

“Fuck, Kris,” Adam groaned as he tightened his hold on Kris, pulling him in even closer.

Kris slid his hand around the back of Adam’s neck, stroking with his thumb as he rubbed circles on Adam’s hip. Kris knew this was dangerous – they might be hidden from the people who wanted to keep them apart, but all it would take was one tweet or picture getting out and the 19E PR machine would crash down on both of them – but he and Adam had been apart for so long that he couldn’t help himself from just _taking_.

Right then he didn’t want to be Kris Allen, the American Idol, he just wanted to be a man out with his boyfriend, free to be seen together, free to smile and touch each other without repercussion in the form of irate phone calls from Idol handlers and red carpet events to show off how happily married he was. The sham was killing him, and he knew that Adam hated it as well.

Kris’ fingers tightened on Adam’s neck, and Adam’s gaze fell on his face. “I love you,” Kris said, then leaned in and pressed his face to the spot in Adam’s neck he’d claimed as his own nearly a year ago.

“Love you, too, baby,” Adam said, the words a soft vibration against the side of Kris’ head.

As they danced Kris let his hand slip around Adam’s hip to rest on his ass, squeezing every once in a while as he imagined what Adam would do to him back in his hotel room. Adam’s hand moved up and down Kris’ back, the touch soft and slow, and yet somehow electrifying at the same time.

Kris brushed his lips against Adam’s throat, then stroked his thumb over the spot.

“You’re playing with fire, sweetie,” Adam warned.

“Mmm?” Kris said, sliding his other hand lower to palm the tight curve of Adam’s ass.

Adam made a sound that rumbled through his chest beneath Kris’ ear.

“You wanna get burned, baby?” Adam said, and then shifted them so that his leg slid between Kris’.

Kris, lost in the sensations flooding him, hadn’t realized how hard he’d gotten until Adam’s thigh pressed against him. He moaned and reflexively ground himself into Adam. Adam slipped his hand beneath Kris’ jacket. He tugged at Kris’ shirt until he pressed the tips of his fingers against heated skin, then dipped them beneath the waistband of Kris’ jeans.

Kris gasped Adam’s name and managed to get out a cracked and raspy, “What are you doing?”

“Just giving you a taste of your own medicine,” Adam said, sliding his fingers down further.

Kris whimpered and rubbed against Adam, not even caring if it looked like they were dancing or rutting. Adam’s finger teased the top of the crack of his ass, and the heat curling in his belly suddenly became overwhelming.

“Adam, I’m close, I’m gonna . . . _Adam_ ,” Kris whined as Adam gently withdrew his hand and pulled away from him.

“Not here,” Adam said. “As much as I love the way you feel and sound right now, I don’t want anyone else knowing what you look like when you come.”

Kris clutched Adam’s hand as he led them off the dance floor, retrieved his coat, and got them to the rear exit. He didn’t care if people knew why they were leaving so hurriedly, only that they got somewhere private _soon_.

Somehow Adam’s car was waiting for them when they finally hit the sidewalk. Kris slid into the air conditioned interior, the air cool on his skin, but in no way dampening his libido. Adam slid in beside him, gave instructions to the driver, and then reached for Kris (who threw himself at Adam and nearly ended up on his lap in his eagerness) before the privacy glass was completely closed.

This kiss, unlike the soft brushes to head and throat they’d allowed themselves in the club, was hot and wet and messy, full of tongue and teeth and whispered _missed you missed you missed you_ s. Adam shoved his hand between them and took Kris in his palm. Kris groaned and pressed open mouthed kisses along Adam’s jaw as he pushed into Adam’s hand. He whined when Adam’s hand disappeared.

“As much as I’d love to make you lose it right now, you don’t have a change of clothes,” Adam said as he worked Kris’ fly open.

Kris kind of hated that Adam was still together enough to remember that, except for how he loved the way Adam always took care of him.

“Besides,” Adam added as his fingers found Kris and pulled him out into the cool air, “missed the taste of you.”

Kris whimpered as Adam pressed him back into the seat and slid to his knees, and almost came at the first touch of Adam’s tongue on him. Kris touched Adam’s head, then slid his fingers into Adam’s hair as Adam’s lips and fingers took him apart.

Kris felt like a rag doll when Adam climbed back onto the seat beside him and pulled Kris into his arms. They kissed, and though he’d just come, Kris couldn’t help responding to the taste of himself on Adam’s tongue. Kris chased Adam’s lips when he pulled away, only subsiding when he realized that the car had stopped, and that Adam was putting him back together. Kris tried to help, but Adam batted his fingers aside and finished tucking him in and buttoning him up.

Before Kris knew it, they were through the VIP entrance and in the private elevator, and Adam had him pressed up against the wall of the car, kissing him and sliding his hands over him and saying things like _can’t wait to fuck you_ and _missed you so much_. Kris got his arms around Adam’s neck and tried to convey his agreement with tongue and body.

When the doors opened they seemed to fly across the room. Kris’ back hit the bed and Adam came down over him, pressing him into the mattress. Kris got his legs around Adam’s hips and Adam ground down against him. They kissed, open mouthed and hungry, until Adam’s rhythmic thrusts faltered.

Adam went taut above him, and he bit down on Kris’ neck, uncaring of leaving a mark they couldn’t explain. His hips jerked against Kris, and Kris felt the pulse of Adam’s cock as he found release.

Adam deflated and sprawled across Kris, his body sated and heavy with it. When Adam tried to roll off him, Kris pulled him back. It wasn’t completely comfortable, and yet Kris loved the feeling of Adam’s weight on him, proof that Adam was _there_.

Eventually Kris did have to breathe. He twisted so that they were both lying on their sides. Adam opened his eyes and looked at him, and Kris smiled.

Adam dropped a quick kiss on Kris’ nose, then said with no small amount of disgust, “I need to get out of these clothes.”

Kris let Adam up and watched him remove his clothes. Carefully draping his jacket over the chair, folding his pants, tossing his soiled underwear towards the bathroom. And then he just looked, because next to being wrapped up in Adam’s arms and touching him, looking at Adam was Kris’ most favorite thing to do.

Adam walked across the room and slipped back onto the bed next to Kris. He slid his hand beneath Kris’ shirt as Kris stroked his hand down Adam’s arm.

“You’re beautiful,” Kris said, fingers tracing patterns between the freckles on Adam’s arm.

Adam smiled, but Kris could tell that he didn’t believe him. Not that Adam didn’t think he was pretty fabulous, but he didn’t think he was beautiful in his natural state, while Kris thought that everything about Adam was beautiful, from his smile, to his eyes, to the freckles Adam tried to hide.

“You are,” Kris said, but instead of answering, Adam just pulled Kris close and kissed him.

Kris moaned and wriggled against Adam, forgetting his own name for the moment, much less what he’d been talking about.

“Your turn,” Adam said, and pushed at Kris’ jacket.

Moments later Kris was naked, and just as uncomfortable under Adam’s scrutiny as Adam had been under his.

“Now _you’re_ beautiful,” Adam said, sliding his hand down Kris’ chest and over his belly. He curled his fingers around Kris’ cock, valiantly filling and rising to the occasion.

“What are you laughing about?”

Kris’ chuckle broke off with a gasp as Adam gently stroked him. “Nothing, I . . . Oh!” He threw his head back, arching as Adam tightened his grip. “ _Adam_.”

Kris whined when Adam released him, then shivered at the heat in Adam’s eyes when he rolled away and then returned with a bottle of slick. Adam squirted a generous puddle into his palm, then wet his fingers. Kris pressed their lips together as he raised one leg over Adam’s, opening himself to Adam’s fingers.

Adam returned the kiss as he reached behind Kris, fingers leaving a trail of lube down the cleft between his cheeks before circling his hole with a teasingly light touch.

“Adam, Adam _please_ ,” Kris breathed against Adam’s lips.

Adam nipped at Kris’ lips. “Tell me,” he said, “tell me what you want.”

Kris gave a whine of protest. He was no good at this, no matter how much Adam told him he could get off on the sound of Kris’ voice reading the phone book, much less telling him what he wanted Adam to do to him. Kris hated having to tell Adam things with words. Outside of his songs, Kris was much better at showing Adam how he felt.

“Tell me,” Adam said again, and the _need_ in his voice slid through Kris and wrapped around his cock.

“T-touch me,” he said, “inside, your finger, I need your finger inside me.”

Adam groaned and pressed his finger inside Kris.

“M-more,” Kris said when Adam didn’t move his finger. “Move your finger, fuck me,” Kris gasped out the last word as Adam moved his finger, pulled it out, pushed it back in, then again before finding Kris’ prostate and stroking it.

Kris clung to Adam, claimed his lips in a desperate kiss as he moved his hips, rubbing against Adam and fucking himself on Adam’s finger. “Adam, please,” he begged, “faster, give it to me, oh god yeah, more, I need, another, put another finger . . . .”

Kris moaned into Adam’s mouth as Adam withdrew his finger, then pressed in with two, stretching him with a delicious burn that Kris hadn’t felt since the night Adam had whispered sweet nothings to Kris over the distance separating them and Kris had cried out his release into his phone, pretending that the fingers in his ass belonged to Adam. Kris dug his fingers into Adam’s back at the memory.

“Remember,” he said, “remember when . . . .”

“I wanted it to be my fingers,” Adam said, “my fingers inside you, stretching you, making you come apart.”

“They were,” Kris said, “they were, _Adam_.”

Adam crushed their mouths together and didn’t wait for Kris to ask him for three fingers. Kris moved, sliding up and down Adam’s fingers, loving how full he felt, anticipating the additional fullness when Adam replaced his fingers with his cock, relishing the ache he knew he’d feel for the next few days, whenever he sat, standing on stage, every move reminding him of Adam.

Adam withdrew his fingers and Kris helped him tear open the foil packet, roll the condom on. Adam pressed Kris back onto the mattress, then settled himself between his legs. He lifted one of Kris’ legs and Kris wrapped the other around Adam’s hip, arching into it as Adam guided himself to Kris’ entrance and pressed into him.

Adam’s thrusts started out slow, easy, teasing them both, until Kris said, “Adam, Adam _fuck_ me, please, just, harder, I need . . . .”

Adam groaned and sped up his thrusts, slamming into Kris faster, pounding him harder until Kris had to plant one hand on the headboard to keep his head from being banged into it. He curled his other arm around Adam’s neck and whispered words of encouragement, _just like that_ and _love the way you feel inside me_ and _don’t ever want this to end_.

Adam made a noise that sounded like a sob, then reached between them and wrapped his fingers around Kris. Kris cried out as he pushed into Adam’s fist while Adam fucked him, the dual sensations coming together inside him, spreading out to his fingers and toes, and then crashing over him until he lay limp and sated beneath Adam.

Adam buried his face in Kris’ neck as he redoubled his efforts, thrusting into him a half dozen more times while Kris just held on for the ride as well as he could when he couldn’t even feel his arms, and then Adam breathed Kris’ name like a benediction as he came undone.

Kris didn’t know how much time passed before they worked up the energy and the will to move. They got cleaned up, and then came back together beneath the covers, wrapped around each other so Kris didn’t know where he ended and where Adam began, which was how he felt most days, even when they weren’t touching, even when they were separated by distance and the puppeteers pulling their strings.

Adam was so much a part of him now that Kris could hardly remember what life before Adam was like.

“How long have we got?” Adam said, breaking into Kris’ thoughts with the ugly truth.

“When does your plane leave?”

“Late tomorrow afternoon.”

“We have til then,” Kris said, hating the grateful smile that bloomed across Adam’s face.

He vowed to himself that they’d make the most of every second they had together before Adam left for Europe, each touch and glance having to hold them over until they could be together again in Boston. By then the next American Idol would be crowned; the hiding and lying would be over, and Kris could shout it out to the world, that he’d fallen in love with Adam Lambert.

The End


End file.
